A Chat with Soil

"Where is Bjorn anyway?" The question did nothing for my boredom. Who cares about that monkey? The Salamander rolled over, happily squirming in its fire. "He's somewhere. He's always somewhere nearby. He can handle himself." My confusion must have been obvious. "He's a lot tougher than you'd think, even if he's just a human. Smarter too. I wish you two would get along better."
I sighed and leaned back onto the log, wincing as my leg notified me, once again, that I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Wasn't that uncomfortable. Anymore. "I just don't understand why he thinks he can actually protect this place. He's a coward! You've seen how he fights. You know he's scared of Dad right? AKA, the only thing that can even the Campgrounds and live to tell the tale? What's he going to do against that? Shout mean words at it?" I smirked. "Actually, I might like to see that." The Salamander remained silent. I glanced at it, my horns knocking into the wood as I did. It too was on its back. "Whatchya doing Flamey?"
"Thinking."
"About what?"
"Problems. People. Stories. Myself. The Dark Forest. And you."
"Me? What about me?" I turned my gaze back towards the treetops. No stars, as usual. There was a moon now at least.
"About how I don't know what you are. You defy rules on a whim, you have power that could fight off something like Zephnos and live, and you claim to be his daughter. But none of that makes any sense. And now here you are, needing my protection." The Salamander sighed. "I'd be less confused if I could send you home, but you don't have one."
That rang a bell. "What even is a home to you? Why do you want to send people back if you're so lonely?"
The Salamander sat still for a while, pensively looking at the sky. "Home to me is... safety. A place where you can hide. A place where no one can reach you or cause you problems."
I laughed. "That's some wishful thinking if you think no one can cause you problems at home. You know Zephnos tore up his home while he was after me? I stayed there for one night and he tore it to pieces."
"I wish you wouldn't talk about him as if he's a monster."
I sat up sharply. Too sharply, my leg told me. "OW – He is a monster. Or did you forget all the people he's killed and eaten? The people you told me about? You can tell I didn't forget, I've got a reminder of how monstrous he is right fucking now!" I jammed a finger down at my still throbbing leg.
Silence again. I hated this about Old Flamey. He'd clam up whenever anyone disagreed with him, and it made it hard to have meaningful arguments. It happened a lot when I was around.
Sighing, I laid back down on the log, which had grown a mat of mosses and lichens. Actually pretty comfortable, even if it was a reminder that I was very much not normal.
We passed some time in silence.
"How long has it been? Since you made him."
"Sixteen years I think."
I turned and gawked. "That makes zero sense."
The Salamander rolled over onto his belly, frowning. Still can't get used to its expressions. "What do you mean?"
"He was only in the Forest for at most a year. And then I made it to the Campgrounds after he did whatever he did to the moon in under a year."
This time the Salamander gawked. "But Bjorn's been keeping track! There's no way it's been that short!"
"There's no way I can prove it, but that's what it felt like for me. I was running from him for a while, but not that long." Wait... maybe there was a way I could prove this. "When did he eat the moon?"
"Eight years ago."
"And when did Bjorn arrive at the Campgrounds?"
"One year ago." The amphibian looked at me, consternation (somehow) written on its face.
"OK so there is no way that I was in the Forest for eight years."
It paused. "That's unsettling. And I don't think you're lying. Which means... time passes less quickly in the Forest?" Another pause, as that pensive look returns. "No, that's not that weird."
I frowned at it with my frowniest frown face. "What the hell do you mean? What could fuck up time like that so badly? Not even something like Zephnos could..." An image of the Tree of Wounds flashed into my head. I hadn't told the Salamander about that... could it be causing this?
The Salamander took a moment to look past the borders of the Campgrounds. "There's still so much I don't know about my own home. As its creator, I should know more about it, but I've never been able to leave this clearing." What was that in his voice? Sadness? Longing? Guilt?
"If you could leave, would you?"
A strange look came over its face then. The Salamander's eyes glowed with a ferocity I'd never seen before, even when faced with Zephnos. They blazed with a purple so deep that I could feel myself falling into them, and all at once I realized just how much the Salamander hated its life. It hadn't asked to be born into a magic fire, and it hadn't asked to be made the only portal out of this cursed realm. It had seen sixteen years of boredom, with only the occasional traveler ever making it to the fire, and even then only for one night. I saw how important it was to it that both me and Bjorn continued to visit, continued to keep it sane, continued to keep it compassionate. But as I fell into those lilac eyes, I saw something else. It was the same fire I'd seen in my own Salamander Spark, and it hungered for me, and Bjorn, and everything else.
I tore my eyes away from the Salamander, shaken. It seems oblivious to this intrusion into its privacy. I barely heard it speak the response.
"Yes."